I awoke last night drenched in sweat, my
Screams soaked with creative cursing. I
Thrashed at some foe not present. (My wife
Sleeps in a bedroom down the hall, for reasons
I care not discuss.) This morning I came to
Realize I was re-enacting the 1415 Battle of
Agincourt. I had read the Wikipedia entry just
Before retiring. My king, Henry V, gave a speech
Rousing us to overcome the vast French numerical
Edge with our new archery gear. Fat chance against
Damascene armor no arrow can breech! I will be killed
Or maimed! I yelled. I will die in a vast lake of blood,
Fighting for this arrogant, pompous, royal ass perched
Sublimely high on his horse, cocooned in the best armor
Our kingdom can provide. I hate our horse-ass king.
He ordered us into battle. Many died, but many more
French. (I think of their wives mourning now.) Mirabile
Dictu! Our new-fangled, high-tech, modern Fifteenth
Century arrows shot from superpower bows pierced their
Armor and we won the day. First time ever missiles won
Over armament. I grieve for my friends who made the
Ultimate sacrifice. I even tried to swat away the flies off
Their bodies last night. I am in total historical shock. I
Suffer from a new kind of battle fatigue. I call it hell.